


born to be crazy, born to be wild

by Anonymous



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Idiots in Love, M/M, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 23:34:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20072452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Nolan wasnotthrowing himself a pity party.Was he injured? Yes.Was he injured for theseven-millionth fucking time? Unfortunately.Had he succumbed, under the covers in the wee hours of the morning, to his weakest impulse, searching his name on Twitter? Also yes.Had that sent him into a shame spiral? Obviously.Had he been ignoring everyone’s calls and texts? Maybe.Had it been at least four days since he’d seen anyone except UberEats drivers?Well, this one he’d now seenthreeseparate times, which might collectively count as actual social interaction, except the girl looked at him with thinly-disguised disapproval, so perhaps this whole thing was, in fact, a little bit of a pity party.





	born to be crazy, born to be wild

**Author's Note:**

> write the porn you wish to see in the world, etc etc
> 
> just treating them as fictional characters, you know the drill

Nolan was _not_ throwing himself a pity party.

Was he injured? Yes.

Was he injured for the _seven-millionth fucking time_? Unfortunately.

Had he succumbed, under the covers in the wee hours of the morning, to his weakest impulse, searching his name on Twitter? Also yes.

Had that sent him into a shame spiral? Obviously.

Had he been ignoring everyone’s calls and texts? Maybe.

Had it been at least four days since he’d seen anyone except UberEats drivers?

Well, this one he’d now seen _three_ separate times, which might collectively count as actual social interaction, except the girl looked at him with thinly-disguised disapproval, so perhaps this whole thing was, in fact, a little bit of a pity party.

Nolan set the bag on his counter with a sigh. He’d gone for healthy this time, in a fit of willpower while scrolling through the app, but he did not, actually, want a fucking salad, thanks, so he stuffed the container in the fridge and slammed the door, hard enough that G’s wedding invitation, which for some reason was still stuck to the fridge under an ugly Liberty Bell magnet that Nolan never remembered buying, fluttered to the floor.

He sighed again and stared at it. His ankle hurt like hell—the doctor’s bright, cheery voice telling him “it’s just a sprain, at least you won’t need surgery!” played on a constant loop in his head like manic circus music—and he hated using his crutches, and he did not feel like bending over to deal with that.

He stepped over it and hobbled to the couch, where his phone was vibrating incessantly against the coffee table. The group chat was lively, with all the boys planning a big night out tonight, and since Nolan certainly wasn’t pulling himself together to go that, he probably should’ve put it on do not disturb or something, but here he was, reading each message anyway.

Nolan flipped channels for a little while and landed on a Chopped marathon on the Food Network, which would be an acceptable backdrop to his brooding. A series of Buzzfeed quizzes took up another half an hour or so and, among other revelations, told him that he was more like Woody than Buzz and that’d he’d end up with Jess from Gilmore Girls. The quiz did _not_ guess his crush’s name by the apartment he designed, though, so he scoffed and tossed his phone aside, focusing back on the TV. He had no idea how they were going to use spicy cheese puffs in a dessert, gross.

* * *

Around eight or so, someone pounded on Nolan’s door. There was a very short list of people that it could be, people whom he didn’t have to buzz into the building and people who were brazen enough to make a small scene in the hallway. The list only had one person on it.

“Pats!” TK yelled. “I’m comin’ in, bro, you better have some fuckin’ pants on.”

Nolan sighed. He never should’ve given him a key. Though honestly, he was kind of amazed TK had waited this long. Nolan had flown home early from the road trip after he got hurt a few days ago, and while the rest of the boys got in sometime overnight, he hadn’t heard from TK at all.

The door opened, and Nolan listened as TK kicked his shoes off at the door and dropped his keys and wallet on the little table by the door that Nolan’s mom had made him buy. He turned the corner into the living room, and maybe it was just because Nolan felt particularly grubby, but TK looked nice, his hair all neat for fucking once, even though he was just wearing slim black sweats and a ratty 67s hoodie.

“Hey, bro, how’s the ankle?”

“Are those pants from Lululemon?”

“Yeah, fucking so? They make my ass look nice.”

Nolan just lifted his eyebrows at that, and TK shoved at his shoulder as he climbed over him to sit on the couch.

“Seriously, though, how’s the ankle?”

Nolan shrugged. “Whatever,” he said, but TK looked skeptical. Nolan never should’ve gotten drunk with him that one time and said too much about how the _injury-prone_ label was starting to fuck with his head. TK never really brought it up or anything, but he _knew_. “It’s fine, I guess.”

“They told us it should just be a couple weeks, so that’s good, right?”

Nolan hummed noncommittally, and TK made a show of rolling his eyes.

“Also, full offense, dude, you fucking reek. When was the last time you took a shower?”

_Yesterday_, Nolan thought, but didn’t say out loud. _I think_.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I will, when you go take a shower. Go on, if you hurry you’ll be done by the time the food’s here.”

“What food?”

“The food I ordered, fucking duh.”

“From where?”

“Where do you think?”

Nolan opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Really?”

“Course, dude. Special occasion.”

Ordering breakfast-for-dinner from their favorite 24-hour diner was their sacred cheat meal tradition, but they didn’t do it very often and it had been a while. Nolan was suddenly starving, and he tried to remember when he last ate.

“Okay, seriously, though, go shower.”

Nolan huffed but stood up, carefully. TK had seen him in far grosser states, but he supposed if he went to the trouble of ordering dinner, Nolan could at least take a shower.

Having a bum ankle made everything take twice as long, he even had to sit down to take off his fucking pants. He had a shower-tub combo, which he’d never really cared about before, but it was annoying as hell now, trying to balance and step in. He wasn’t willing to like, take a bath, though, so he’d have to fucking deal.

He successfully washed his hair, but when he reached for the soap, he overbalanced, instinctively tried to brace his weight on his bad foot, and then collapsed down against the wall. Nolan was just cataloguing the pain—not _too_ bad, he didn’t think he made it worse, anyway—when TK came flying through the door and whipped open the shower curtain.

“Holy shit, man, are you okay?”

Embarrassed, down to the very bottom of his soul, but otherwise— “Fine. Just slipped.”

TK kneeled down next to the tub. “Did you hit your head? How many fingers am I holding up?”

Nolan batted his hand down. “My head’s fine, I swear.” 

“Were you like, trying to jerk off or something? Cause it seems safer to just do that in a bed right now, man, just saying.”

Nolan sighed. “No.”

“C’mon, let me help you up.”

Nolan wanted to refuse, for the sake of his pride, but his ankle really was throbbing and he didn’t want to slip again. He nodded, and TK didn’t make fun of him or anything, just got a hard grip on his arm under his elbow and slowly helped him stand up.

“Do you need me to wash your fuckin’ hair for you, dude? Cause I’ll do it. I’d never let you forget it, but I’ll do it.”

Nolan rolled his eyes. “No. Get out.”

“You’re welcome, by the way!” TK shouted over his shoulder as he left the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Nolan smiled, in spite of himself, but at least that was just between him and his shower.

* * *

Nolan finished his shower without further injury and tugged on sweatpants and his favorite hoodie after rewrapping his ankle. He used his crutch, obediently, and found TK in the kitchen, where G’s wedding invitation had been restored to its place of prominence on the fridge and where there was now a stack of styrofoam containers that smelled amazing.

“You feel better?”

“No,” Nolan lied, and TK grinned.

“Well you definitely smell better. Did you manage to jerk off without giving yourself another concussion?”

“I wasn’t fuckin’ jerking off.”

“Too bad, might improve your mood,” TK said, and that bastard ducked neatly when Nolan threw a piece of potato at him.

“Shut up,” he mumbled, and TK laughed. He got two plates out of Nolan’s cabinet and dug through his dishwasher for some forks because he knew that Nolan barely ever emptied his dishwasher. “Why are you doing this?”

TK shrugged. “I just want you to be happy, dude. You’re harshing my vibe when you’re all, you know,” he gestured at Nolan with the fork he was using to distribute the pancakes, “like that. Sad and shit.”

“Oh yeah, I’m harshing your vibe?”

“Damn straight.”

“Well I didn’t _ask_ you to be here, you know.”

TK didn’t even react, just opened the container with the bacon, by the smell of it, and for some reason the silence made Nolan feel even worse.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “I’m—I didn’t mean that. Sorry. I’m just…you know.”

“I know,” TK said, and it wasn’t like how a person would say _I know_ just to move along a conversation or whatever, he actually _did_ know. “I’m the best, you love me, etc etc.”

“Let’s not go that far.”

“Dude, I fucking brought you bacon, how can you not love someone you brought you bacon?” he said, his mouth full.

“Maybe someone who didn’t eat it all first,” Nolan said, and TK swallowed, guiltily.

“I still left a lot for you.”

“Uh-huh.”

Nolan bumped TK out of the way with his hip and took over the distribution of the food, mostly to make sure he got his share of bacon. TK had gone all out, with pancakes and eggs and potatoes, and Nolan was practically drooling.

“I got fruit salad, too, to be, y’know, healthy,” TK said, his head in Nolan’s fridge. “Where the fuck is all your beer?”

“Drank it all,” Nolan said. That had been day two of the pity party, mostly. “Who wants beer with breakfast food, anyway?”

“You should keep champagne on hand. Mimosas would be good.”

“Who keeps champagne _on hand_?”

TK shrugged. “Adults, probably?”

“So definitely not you. And you’re older than me, so—”

“Shut up, the food is getting cold,” TK interrupted him. “C’mon.”

Chopped was still on the TV, and while Nolan technically had other places to sit in his apartment, they always ate dinner on the couch. He propped his ankle up on a pillow on the coffee table and balanced his plate on his lap.

“Had to come check and make sure you were still alive. You weren’t answering any of my snaps,” TK said, through a mouthful of pancakes.

Nolan shrugged. “Busy, y’know.”

“_Busy_? Doin’ fucking what? Feeling sorry for yourself?”

Nolan’s face felt hot, and he shoveled more eggs in his mouth. “Shut the fuck up.”

“_You _shut up.”

“Real mature,” Nolan said, and TK rolled his eyes.

“I’m serious. You…you’re the fucking best, okay? This is just a blip, this doesn’t mean you’re _injury-prone_, or what the fuck ever, everyone gets hurt, and in two weeks you’ll be back and everyone will forget all about this. Okay?”

“Wow,” Nolan said, after a moment. He was not mentally prepared to accept a sincere compliment right now. “You wanna pump my tires some more?”

TK pulled a face. “Fuck no. Forget I said anything at all, actually.”

Nolan snorted and bumped TK’s shoulder harder than necessary as he reached for more potatoes. It was a _thank you_, and TK knew it.

Eventually, TK shoved their empty plates to the far side of the coffee table and pushed Nolan down onto his side, crawling over to curl up behind him. Nolan was unfortunately familiar with this position, as it was really the only way for both of them to be comfortable lying down on the couch. He needed a bigger couch, probably.

TK patted Nolan on the hip when he was finally done squirming.

“You’re injured, you need to be comforted.”

Nolan rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, you just like to be big spoon.”

TK didn’t deny it because Nolan was fucking right.

Problem was, in this position, there was really nowhere for TK’s top arm to go except for…around Nolan. It kind of just dangled there, hooked in the curve of Nolan’s waist relatively innocently, until TK’s fingers started fiddling with the pocket of Nolan’s hoodie, with the hem of his shirt, even with the_ drawstring of his sweats_, Jesus Christ, because he was incapable of being still for three seconds.

Nolan grimaced. In the midst of his pity party he hadn’t even jerked off, which meant it had been like four days, and _that_ meant even the merest touch in the vicinity of his groin would probably give him a half-chub. And the hand of the guy he had an unfortunate crush on—that had been part of the pity party, too, he didn’t want to talk about it—so close to his dick, no matter how innocent the intent, definitely qualified.

Nolan levered himself up on one arm to grab the blanket tossed over the other arm of the couch, but he winced and let out a little sound when he jostled his ankle.

“Hang on, hang on, I’ll get it.” TK braced a hand on Nolan’s hip and reached for the blanket. “You cold?”

“Yeah,” Nolan lied, tugging the blanket up far enough to cover his dick. TK settled back down and tragically, cuddled even closer, pushing his knee between Nolan’s thighs. His hand was blessedly still for a little while, until the movement started back up again, his fingers drumming out a random pattern against Nolan’s stomach. He thumbed at the pocket of his hoodie for a while, then tucked his hand inside and stayed mostly still, just his thumb slowly sweeping up and down against Nolan’s stomach, through his shirt.

It felt nice, kinda soothing, even though TK’s shitty excuse for a beard kept scraping across the back of Nolan’s neck as he shifted, and it was literally everything Nolan could do to suppress a shiver, every single time. He was managing, though, and eventually got used to it, enough so that he started to feel drowsy. He was warm, under the blanket, and his ankle didn’t even hurt that much. TK eventually moved his hand, coming up to scratch his face, and Nolan groaned.

“Don’t,” he mumbled, mostly on autopilot, and TK stilled, a silent question. Nolan tucked his face further into the pillow, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Don’t stop,” he got out, barely, and TK didn’t say anything in response, but after a few torturous, silent seconds, he moved his hand back down to Nolan’s stomach, this time under his shirt.

Nolan was no longer drowsy.

TK’s hand was warm, and Nolan couldn’t quite hold back the shudder this time. He’d been lying before, about being cold, but it was January in Pennsylvania, so it wasn’t exactly balmy inside his apartment. TK did the thumb-sweepy thing for a while, which was bad enough, but then it was his whole hand, his fingers tracing lightly all over Nolan’s abs and even walking up to his chest.

It didn’t take very long for Nolan to get fully hard, which was fully embarrassing, but at least he had his blanket. He was kind of afraid of moving, of breaking whatever weird spell was happening here, but he tugged the blanket up to his chest anyway, just to be safe. TK moved with him, leaning against his back a little harder and shifting his head on the pillow. TK’s nose was tucked into Nolan’s hair now, the rush of his breath hot over Nolan’s ear, and that wasn’t really buddies, was it?

Nolan felt frozen, mostly because he had no experience with this. Well, not _this_, exactly, it wasn’t like he was a virgin or anything, but he’d certainly never had TK plastered against his back before, touching his stomach in a way that he wouldn’t exactly call friendly.

He shut his eyes and tried to exhale in a normal way. What was he supposed to do with his hands? They were kind of tucked up toward his head, giving TK plenty of room to—

Okay, TK’s fingers skimmed the waistband of his sweats, and that didn’t feel accidental. He did it again, dipping underneath just the tiniest bit, and Nolan had to swallow a groan. This had to be—he didn’t know what this was.

He shifted a little because he had to do _something_ with all of this energy coursing through him, and _whoa_, yes, that was most definitely TK’s dick against his low back, and he was hard. So…definitely not platonic, then. Cool.

TK inhaled, sharp, and his hand stilled on Nolan’s stomach, his fingers digging in. “Fuck,” he breathed out, barely audible, and Nolan still had no idea what to do here, how to convey that yes, he absolutely wanted this to continue, whatever the hell this was. So he just stayed still because he was fundamentally a coward, probably, but he didn’t have to wait long until TK pulled him down onto his back, craned his neck, and just fucking kissed him.

Nolan probably should have been able to guess that this would be a hundred fucking miles an hour right from the get-go, like anything else TK did, but he’d never really allowed himself to think that far ahead, actually, and now he needed a few seconds to catch up. TK was draped over his side now, their legs hopelessly tangled, and TK held him in place with a firm hand on the side of his neck.

Nolan started kissing back, finally, and his hand kind of hovered in the air for a minute before he settled on TK’s hip, squeezing. TK’s hand brushed over the front of Nolan’s sweatpants, light, and when Nolan made some kind of embarrassing choked-off groan noise, TK smiled.

_I just want you to be happy_, he’d said earlier, and suddenly it clicked.

“No, stop,” Nolan bit out, his voice louder than he was expecting. TK froze and moved back, but it wasn’t far enough, and Nolan shoved him away with one arm while his mind reeled.

Oh god, Nolan’s crush on him was probably _obvious_, they could probably see it from space, surely they _all_ knew, they probably talked about it all the time, and this was so clearly just TK attempting to make him feel better, which would be a nice notion if it wasn’t also totally fucking _stupid_, and now Nolan needed to go crawl in a hole and die of embarrassment.

“Whoa, Patty, babe, you okay?” TK said, his hand gripping Nolan’s forearm, and Nolan grimaced.

_Babe_, ugh. TK called him that sometimes, just in the loose, rapid-fire way that he talked, but now, in the context of what was clearly a pity fuck, the sound of it made Nolan want to claw his own skin off.

He took a deep breath and sat up, disentangling their limbs and pulling the blanket over his lap. He breathed again and bent over to rest his head in his hands, his elbows braced on his knees.

“I can go, do you want me to—”

“No,” Nolan bit out because at heart, he was probably a masochist or something, even though he wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. “I just—gimme a second.”

He was—this was mixed signals or something, surely, and TK was probably confused, but Nolan was plenty confused, too, because while he was deeply embarrassed and weirdly ashamed, TK was his best friend and he felt better when he was around.

At least he didn’t have a boner anymore, though.

“M’sorry,” TK mumbled, after an indeterminable number of minutes of very awkward silence, and when Nolan looked over at him, he was staring studiously at the TV, as tucked into the corner of the couch as someone could possibly be.

Nolan gave him a lot of shit for being small, but he never actually _looked_ small, he tended to take up all the space he was intended and then some. He did now, though. He’d pulled his hood over his head and was chewing on the strings, his arms wrapped around his legs that were pulled up to his chest.

“What?”

TK didn’t answer him at first, his gaze firmly fixed on the episode of Chopped. Nolan was not as invested, he didn’t even know what the box ingredients were.

“You’re hurt and pissed and probably…probably not thinking straight or whatever, and it wasn’t cool that I basically just, like, tried to take advantage of you or whatever. I’m sorry, dude. Just—just forget it.”

Nolan was usually pretty fluent in TK, but right now he had no idea what he was trying to say.

“I—what?”

TK groaned, dissatisfied. “I already said I’m sorry, okay? That was shitty, and I’m gonna go, and if if you could just pretend that this never—”

He stood up and took two defiant steps toward the door, but Nolan grabbed his wrist before he could get too far.

“Wait. Just…hang on. Why did you, um.”

_Why did you kiss me_, is what he wanted to say, but that sounded weirdly juvenile and embarrassing.

“Why did you do that,” he settled on, but it sounded unintentionally harsh and he regretted it when TK grimaced.

“Because I fucking wanted to, Jesus. But I just said I was sorry, and now I’m gonna—”

TK neatly twisted his wrist out of Nolan’s grip, but Nolan reached for him again and managed to snag the waistband of his sweats. “No, hang on.” Nolan swallowed. “Was that not…were you not doing like, a pity fuck thing?”

To his credit, TK looked horrified. “What the fuck, dude, _no_.”

“You swear,” Nolan said, and he was _more_ than a little mortified at how small his voice sounded. But before he could fully spiral about that, TK climbed back onto the couch, right onto Nolan’s lap, and cupped his face in both hands.

“_Yes_, oh my god. Or—or no, whichever means that no, that was absolutely not a pity fuck thing, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Nolan groaned and tipped his head back, his eyes falling shut. “I just thought—”

“There’s your problem, you were thinking. Just shut up, Pats,” TK said, but his voice was soft, almost as soft as his mouth was when he leaned down and kissed him again. It was gentler than before, and slower, and TK stayed right in his space when he pulled back, just a hair’s breadth from his mouth. “Is this okay?” he asked, and Nolan really hated that thread of uncertainty in his voice.

He wrapped his arms around TK’s back, tight, and kissed him, until there was nothing uncertain about the little noises that were coming out of TK’s mouth. Nolan got his hands on TK’s ass and hauled him even closer, until their hips were flush.

“These pants do make your ass look nice, I noticed,” he said, and TK threw his head back and laughed. Nolan tried to hide his face in TK’s chest, but TK’s fingers slid into his hair and used the grip to tug him back.

“Oh my god, look at that, you’re smiling.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re still smiling, actually, I think I—”

Magically, TK stopped talking while he was kissing. Nolan should have tried this sooner.

This position was great in nearly every way, except Nolan didn’t have a lot of leverage to grind up or anything, without the ability to put weight on his bad foot. TK was doing enough moving for both of them, though, and Nolan’s boner was coming back with a vengeance.

TK’s hands were still in his hair, occasionally tugging and using his grip to control the kiss, and Nolan liked it a hell of a lot more than he thought he would. TK kissed down his jaw, nosing underneath to encourage him to tip his head back, and Nolan shuddered when his tongue ran over his adam’s apple.

He was really going to town on Nolan’s neck, and after a minute he winced, less at the pain than at the thought of having a mark that someone could see. They weren’t in fucking high school.

“Oh my god, stop, you fucking vampire.”

TK finally stopped, nipping at Nolan’s earlobe before he pulled back completely. “Hmm, too late, I think,” he said, thumbing at Nolan’s neck, and Nolan rolled his eyes. “Whoops.”

“That’s not cute, you’re not cute.”

“I think you’re lying.”

“I think you’re fucking annoying, that’s what I think.”

TK grinned, completely undeterred, and shifted on Nolan’s lap. “Your dick seems to disagree.”

Nolan didn’t really have a comeback for that one, so he just took hold of TK’s hips, really digging in, and kissed him again.

It was a fucking good kiss, really deep and hot, and Nolan felt pleasantly pinned with TK’s heavy weight across his thighs. TK’s hands were impatient and greedy, clutching at Nolan’s arms and shoulders through the thick fabric of his sweatshirt.

After a few minutes TK pulled back and stood up, his dick tenting his pants. Nolan tipped his head back, and his groan was closer to a whine than he’d prefer to admit. “What the fuck, where are you going.”

“You’re hurt, dude, c’mon. We shouldn’t like, fuck on a couch.”

“You’re leaving?” he asked, and TK rolled his eyes.

“No, I was just moving to your bed, you moron.”

Oh. That made sense.

Nolan hauled himself off the couch with as much grace as he could manage, which wasn’t much.

“I could carry you,” TK offered, and Nolan rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I’d like to see you try.”

He realized about half a second too late that that was _exactly_ the wrong thing to say to TK, but he was able to half-hobble-half-dodge out of the way before TK could pick him up and further injure them both, probably.

“I could do it,” TK said, petulant.

“Sure,” Nolan said. “Let’s try it this way, though.”

TK was the perfect size to lean on like this, just the right height for Nolan to sling an arm over and sturdy enough to take some of his weight. It was not at all hot, hobbling slowly to the bedroom on one leg, but TK didn’t seem impatient or anything, just wrapped his arm tight around Nolan’s back and carefully guided him around the corners.

“Sorry. About this.”

“Dude don’t be sorry. I don’t need you to like, carry me bridal-style over the threshold or anything.”

“Wow, that was specific.”

“Maybe another time, eh, when both your legs work.”

_Another time_.

Nolan was afraid that he’d ruined the mood or whatever, but TK just gently guided him to sit at the edge of the bed. He reached around Nolan to move the sheets out of the way, but Nolan got his hands on his waist and pulled him down into his lap again. He’d decided that he was fond of this position.

“Hey,” TK complained, but he kept kissing him, eager, so he must not’ve been that broken up about it. “I was doin’ somethin’ there. All romantic and shit.”

“Well, _I’m_ doin’ something here. You.”

“That was awful,” TK informed him as he got his feet underneath him again and pushed Nolan to lie back on the bed. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Nolan was feeling a lot of things right now, but shame certainly wasn’t one of them. TK swatted him on the hip, not hard enough to hurt. “Budge up.”

Nolan obediently scooted up toward the headboard, and he could barely even watch, with this weird ache in his chest, as TK grabbed the other pillow and carefully tucked it under his bad ankle.

“Tell me if it hurts, okay? Don’t be a dumbass. More than you already are, anyway.”

“Hey,” Nolan complained. “Don’t be mean to me.”

“_Mean_ to you?” TK straddled him and braced one hand on his chest, counting off on his other hand. “This was a grade-A date, dude. I fuckin’ bought you dinner, number one. There was hardcore cuddling, number two. I even wore my ass pants for you.”

“Yeah, do your ass pants usually work for you?”

“Shut the fuck up,” TK said, but he was grinning as he leaned down to kiss him, one hand braced next to Nolan’s shoulder. It was more languid than it was on the couch, almost lazy, but Nolan was still burning up here, literally and figuratively. He got his hands on TK’s bare skin, right at the curve of his lower back, and slid up, taking his hoodie and shirt with him.

TK kneeled up enough to strip them off, dropping them off the side of the bed. Getting his own hoodie off was a little more awkward, but TK helped him with it, and when they were finally skin-on-skin, Nolan couldn’t suppress the urge to just…touch him. “How are you so tan? It’s fucking January.”

“I’m not tan, I’m just tanner than you. Not that that’s hard.” TK trailed his fingers along Nolan’s waistband, a light touch that was an echo of what he’d been doing before on the couch. “You know what _is_ hard, th—”

Nolan yanked TK down and kissed him, mostly so he didn’t have to hear the end of that terrible joke. He could feel TK’s dick against his thigh, even through their sweats, and he reached down to cup his ass, encouraging TK to grind down. It was better than it had any right to be, rough and graceless, and honestly, Nolan would be fine with just doing this, listening to TK’s groans, until he made a mess in his sweats.

TK pulled back, though, breathing hard, and he braced both hands on Nolan’s stomach. “Will you admit that I’m nice to you if I suck your dick?” he asked, as casual as if he was just asking Nolan what time practice was or something, and Nolan had to slam his eyes shut at the thought.

“Maybe,” he got out, and he could see TK’s smug little smile without even opening his eyes. He moved back, sitting up between Nolan’s legs, and leaned down to press a kiss to his stomach.

“Don’t, like, be a fuckin’ asshole or whatever, kay?” He loosened the drawstring on Nolan’s sweats. “Just—be still.”

Nolan swallowed. “I will.”

TK squirmed for a minute, finally settling on his stomach, and tugged Nolan’s sweats down to mid-thigh. “Jesus,” he muttered, flicking his hair out of his face so he could tilt his head up and give Nolan the stink eye. “Seriously?”

“What,” Nolan exclaimed. “I’m tall! It’s…proportional!”

“Fuckin’ warn a guy, god.”

Nolan opened his mouth to say…something, but TK ducked down and licked at the head of his dick, and any other thoughts flew out of his head. He kind of wanted to ask TK whether or not he’d done this before, but it didn’t matter, really, and Nolan had no idea what he would do with that information, anyway.

TK wasn’t exactly quiet about the whole thing, which probably shouldn’t have been a surprise. They weren’t weird fake porn star noises, thank god, just little happy groans that felt really nice on his dick. And sure, it was hot or whatever—Nolan wished it was a little _less_ hot, actually, he’d like to last longer than an embarrassing 45 seconds so TK wouldn’t mock him forever—but it was also good to know that he wasn’t, like, miserable down there or anything.

TK’s hair hung in his eyes, looking softer than usual, and Nolan’s fingers itched to touch it. He did, just lightly, after barely a minute of futile resistance, and TK didn’t protest or anything, so Nolan did it again, slid his hand into his hair and cupped the back of his head.

He tugged a little, just to make TK glare at him, which he did, right on cue, and Nolan snorted at the look on his face. TK pulled off, though, which was _not_ Nolan’s intent, and he groaned.

“I’m sorry, do you have a complaint?” TK said, and Nolan knocked into his shoulder with his knee.

“No,” he grumbled. “Can you—please?”

TK tilted his head. “Huh. I thought it’d take more for you to beg.”

Nolan sputtered. “I don’t think that was _begging_, I—”

TK ignored him and just started sucking his dick again, and Nolan forgot about defending himself. It just felt _really_ nice, which was completely inadequate to say about a blow job, especially this blow job, but it was true nonetheless. Nolan kind of wanted it last forever, so he could float in this nice hazy space with an orgasm on the imminent horizon, but that seemed pretty rude to TK.

Not that there was much of a risk of him lasting forever. Nolan made it longer than 45 seconds, he was proud to admit, but it was still single digit minutes. Low single digit minutes. Whatever.

“Trav. _Fuck_, Trav, I—”

He tugged on TK’s hair again, but he figured it was allowed now, for this explicit purpose. TK ignored him, though, and didn’t pull back until Nolan started coming, late enough that it was dripping on his chin. Nolan closed his eyes, mostly because it seemed dangerous to have an accurate mental image of TK with come on his face and be able to conjure _that_ up whenever he wanted.

He should probably be embarrassed about whatever noises he made, but at the moment he was feeling too blissed out to care. It took him a second to come back down to earth, and for his ears to stop ringing. TK’s forehead was resting on the cut of Nolan’s hip, when he finally opened his eyes, and while Nolan couldn’t see a lot from his angle, he could guess from the muscles bunching in TK’s shoulder that his hand was down his pants.

Nolan reached for TK’s arm and tugged. “Hey,” he said, his voice raspy. “Stop, c’mere.”

TK groaned but obediently levered himself up, mostly on top of Nolan. Nolan slid his hands down the back of TK’s sweats and felt hot skin. “Wow, freeballing, really?” he said as he shoved them down, and TK kicked them off.

“So were you!”

“Yeah, but this is my fuckin’ house. You can’t like, not wear underwear in another man’s house.”

“Your apartment does not count as ‘another man’s house.’ I practically live here.” TK dipped his head and shifted forward with a groan, grinding his dick against Nolan’s stomach. “I realize that you already got yours, or whatever, but I’d really like to come sometime this fucking century.”

Nolan snorted and licked his palm, but he clearly didn’t do an adequate job because TK intercepted his hand and spit in it. Nolan grimaced. “Gross.”

“You didn’t seem to think so when I was sucking your dick two minutes ago.”

That was a solid point.

TK’s face was tucked into Nolan’s neck, and he could feel the vibration of his groan when Nolan wrapped a hand around him. The angle wasn’t the greatest, but Nolan kept his grip tight, and with the way TK kept thrusting down against him, they made it work.

TK had started in on his neck again, probably making another fucking mark, so Nolan got a hand in TK’s hair and tugged him up so he could reach his mouth instead. The kiss was sloppy but eager, and TK kept getting distracted, stilling and just breathing into Nolan’s mouth until Nolan started kissing him again.

“Come on,” TK whined into his mouth. “Fuck that’s good, please, I’m gonna—”

“What, what do you want?”

TK pushed up on his arms, giving Nolan more room, and it only took about a dozen more quick, tight strokes before TK came with a little cry, all over Nolan’s stomach. He slumped down to Nolan’s side with a satisfied little hum, and after a second he was still, more so than Nolan had probably ever seen him.

Nolan would think he was asleep, actually, except his eyes were half-open, hazy and warm. Nolan reached out with his clean hand and combed through TK’s hair, biting back a smile when TK arched up into it like a cat.

Nolan was almost completely content, except there was a lot of come on his stomach, actually, and just as it was starting to dry uncomfortably, TK rolled away with a groan and stood up, heading for the bathroom.

“You’re lucky you’re injured, otherwise I wouldn’t be so nice to you!” he yelled, and Nolan smiled at the ceiling.

“Oh, yeah?”

TK was in the doorway, still naked, with a washcloth in his hand. “Yeah, as soon as both your legs work you gotta get your own fuckin’ washcloths.”

The washcloth landed on Nolan’s thigh with a wet smack, but at least it was warm, Nolan reasoned. He wiped himself off while TK climbed back in bed.

“Are you supposed to sleep on your back?”

Nolan winced. “Yeah.” He preferred to sleep on his stomach, but the doctor told him to sleep with his foot up on a pillow if at all possible. “It sucks, I always wake up because I try to turn over in my sleep.”

TK curled up against Nolan’s side, throwing a leg over both of his and resting a heavy arm across his stomach. “I’ll just sleep on you, problem solved.”

“I don’t remember asking you to stay over,” Nolan said, yawning, as he hooked an arm around TK’s neck and held him in place.

“Too fuckin’ bad. You can’t just fuck and run, dude, that’s not cool.”

“Technically _you_ would be the one who’s running.”

TK squirmed and reached for the sheets. They were a tangled mess, but he managed to get some of the fabric over their bodies. “Yeah, well, I’m not going anywhere, fucking deal with it.”

“Twist my arm, I guess.”

“I’d rather not, you already have a twisted ankle, ya bum.”

“Shut _up_.”

**Author's Note:**

> I used a variation of fuck 53 times, so I’m calling this a success
> 
> and those Buzzfeed quizzes are of course real


End file.
